


Scenes From an Italian Restaurant

by alessandralee



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirsten can't be bothered to keep up her cover, Cameron gets distracted, and dinner turns out harder than they're thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes From an Italian Restaurant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrierising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/gifts).



“The tilapia looks good,” Cameron remarks absently as he looks the menu over. His comment draws Kirsten’s attention away from the other diners and back to their own table. “What are you ordering?”

Briefly, Kirsten glances over the menu in her hands before telling him, “The steak.”

Now that they’re out of the lab and in the restaurant, with full clearance from Maggie, all Kirsten really cares about it figuring out which of their fellow diners is the enigmatic Mr. Snow she’d heard mentioned in her most recent stitch.

That means it’s up to Cameron to keep them from looking too suspicious.

Kirsten doesn’t even notice when their waiter brings the breadbasket to their table, she’s too busy staring down two elderly gentlemen a few tables over.

Fortunately, neither of them seems to notice the strange blonde ogling them at the expense of her date.

Cameron coughs to get her attention. The glare she gives him from across the table is almost enough to make him squirm in his suit.

“So what do you think of the restaurant, sweetie?” he asks, the words sounding much stranger on his tongue than his usual terms of endearment. Hopefully it’s enough to remind her that they’re supposed to be acting like they’re on a date, not like they’re complete strangers who would rather be anywhere else. “I know it’s not last year’s spontaneous beach getaway, but it sure beats our first anniversary.”

He forces himself to chuckle like he’s remembering something fondly.

Kirsten looks at him with confusion before offering an awkward, “It’s nice,” and refocusing her gaze over his shoulder.

He can’t turn around and see who she’s staring at without being completely obvious, but it’s a safe bet that it’s the latest candidate for their mysterious government rogue.

After her third rebuff of his attempts at conversation (his imaginary job at the law firm, the fake marathon she’s signed up for, and their pretend dog Stretch’s trip to the vet) he almost hopes Mr. Snow isn’t here tonight. Because if he is, there’s no way he hasn’t noticed the young woman in the green dress carefully taking inventory of everyone in the room.

Cameron leans across the table and takes Kirsten’s hand, which had been resting over the burgundy tablecloth, in his. Her attention snaps back to him once again.

“Can you at least look like you want anything to do with me?” he whispers sharply. A couple arguing over appetizers still looks more realistic than what they’ve been doing so far. “You’re the one who suggested we do the whole undercover couple thing. Let me tell you, you’re not selling it.”

“I’m sorry if you don’t think I’m giving the dog adequate attention, but we’re here for a reason,” Kirsten whispers back, leaning in to meet his glare with one of her own.

“And that reason could et us killed by our cold, frozen mystery man,” he spits back, “if you don’t at least try to look like we belong at restaurant neither one of us could afford without Maggie picking up the check.”

For a brief moment, Kirsten looks taken aback by his words. Maybe he came in too hot with the criticism. He probably could have been a bit gentler in nudging her in the right direction.

Then she leans back, pulling her hand out from underneath his. He feels colder without it, even though he’d forgot it was there in the first place. He pulls his own hand back into his lap.

Kirsten smirks slightly, that familiar challenging look appearing in her eyes. Suddenly, Cameron knows that, whatever she’s about to say, he’s totally stepped in it.

“I’ve seen your apartment,” she begins, and Cameron mentally curses himself for bringing up money. He’s put a lot of effort into avoiding this line of conversation, “it’s pretty darn nice, and the Agency certainly isn’t footing the bill for it.”

Cameron doesn’t know how to respond. He’s pretty sure he’d rather go toe-to-toe with Mr. Snow, whoever he is, than talk to Kirsten about his parents. It’s a touchy subject, one he keeps to himself even around people who aren’t as prickly as she can be.

Eventually, he manages as stilted, “Fair point.”

Kirsten just smirks wider, her eyebrows lifting in amusement. It’s like she’s toying with him.

“So about the dog,” he gasps.

“Clean bill of health,” she responds.

“And work?” he tries again.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about work tonight. We’re celebrating,” she finally starts playing along, at the worst moment possible.

He brings up sports and politics and the economy and plenty of other topics, just for her to breeze through them in as few words as possible.

Whatever game they’re playing, he’s definitely losing. It’s as if she’s trying to wear him down until the only things left to talk about are the things he’s desperate to avoid talking about.

She’s too good at this.

He’s about to move onto obscure 80s cartoons, an area where he might actually stand a chance of throwing her off her game, when plates clatter to the ground a few tables over.

In a flash, Kirsten’s spinning out of her chair to look at the commotion taking place behind her.

The hem of her dress twists up her leg, and suddenly that’s the only thing Cameron’s capable of focusing on.

He’d like to say this is a new occurrence, that Kirsten never distracts him like this. But the only reason that wouldn’t be true is because most of the time, Kirsten is what he’s supposed to be focusing on.

His face feel hot and he thinks he might actually be blushing over a tiny bit of skin on a woman he’s seen in catsuit, when the legs he’s so focused on start running for the door.

That snaps him back to the reality in which Kirsten is chasing a man in an all white suit out the front door of the restaurant.

How does she always drag him into these messes?

Quickly, Cameron grabs Kirsten’s bag off her abandoned seat and scrambles after her. He’s vaguely aware of their waiter calling for him to stop, but right now his biggest concern is catching up to Kirsten and making sure she doesn’t get herself killed.

As he pauses just outside the restaurant to pick up her discarded heels, he makes a mental note to ask Maggie to send someone to pay the check he’s currently skipping out on.


End file.
